


When Harry Met Gabi - Chapter Three

by freixe



Series: When Harry Met Gabi [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, The Affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freixe/pseuds/freixe
Summary: Inspired by 'The Affair'. Now in his forties, with three teenage children and a successful if stressful career, Harry Potter's life has settled into something resembling normality. Two events are about to change this: the rise of a pureblood wizard terrorist group, and the reappearance in his life of Gabrielle Delacour.





	When Harry Met Gabi - Chapter Three

**Harry**

 

Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Not quite as glamorous as it sounds. If my son was here he’d probably say “it doesn't sound glamorous at all, Dad” or something to that effect, but it was the peak that I’d been climbing towards for a long time. The pinnacle of my career. Something that would have made my parents proud.

In the three years since I’d been promoted, I’d managed to acquire a new office, an assistant and… a mountain of paperwork so dull you needed a zap yourself with a few reviving spells to get through it. Even so, I enjoyed my job. It was good to feel useful, and I liked that I no longer had anyone to report into. (Other than Hermione, obviously, but she’d felt like my boss since we were twelve; her being Minister for Magic didn’t change much in that respect.)

I remember sitting in my office the Monday after Teddy’s wedding, drafting a report of Carrow and Selwyn’s antics for the staff to write up. I actually rather liked Monday mornings; they were the calm before the storm. Downstairs, there was some commotion going on in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office – some daft kid had just been caught selling bewitched e-cigarettes that let out rainbows instead of smoke. I’d have to deal with him after lunch, but for now, I had a few hours to myself.

I made myself another coffee, watched the sunlight sparkle on the Thames. Every so often, my eye would catch the family photo on my desk. It had been taken just a few weeks ago, while we were in South Korea for the Quidditch World Cup. That morning, Photo James kept turning Photo Lily’s hair green, though he only ever managed to colour a few strands before Ginny rolled her eyes and undid the damage. Albus was staring at the shoes, his hands in his pockets and his fringe flopping into his eyes. Only I was looking at the camera, a tight, forced smile on my face.

I’d been so annoyed at Albus that morning. He’d been back from Hogwarts for a week and had barely left his room except for meals, furious that we wouldn’t let him skip our holiday to visit Scorpius in Italy. I’d thought he might cheer up when we got to Seoul, that he might let himself get swept up in the excitement of the World Cup, but he’d sulked throughout the entire trip. Couldn’t even bring himself to cheer when England won against Mexico.

Part of me could emphathise. I remembered how much I loathed being away from Ron and Hermione in the holidays – but it’s not as if he had the Dursleys to go back to, and it’s not like we’d banned all contact with the boy. I couldn’t help but think how lucky Albus, and how little he appreciated it. Besides, his being friends with Scorpius was one thing, but I wasn’t comfortable letting him waltz off to the continent with the Malfoys. We hadn’t buried the hatchet that deep.

Anyway, the whole thing had come to a head that morning over breakfast and when Hermione took the photo we were both still in a crappy mood. Hermione hadn’t realised and had gotten the photo framed for me, thinking I could do with an upgrade from the four-year-old picture I’d had in my last office. But every time I looked at it, a fresh wave of irritation broke over me, swiftly followed by another one of guilt. Being a dad… it just shouldn't be this difficult.

A knock on the door broke my chain of thought. My assistant, a quiet young wizard named Tetsuya, stepped into the room.

‘Sorry to interrupt, sir.’ I’d told him a hundred times to call me Harry. He wasn’t having it. ‘There’s someone here to see you – she says she hasn’t got an appointment, but since the meeting with Muggle Liason has been cancelled, I thought maybe you could squeeze her in? She says she knows you.’

I glanced at my diary, and my stomach flipped. Written in the 12pm slot, in neat, sloping letters that definitely weren’t my own, a name was appearing: Gabrielle Delacour.

I stood up and immediately knocked over my coffee. Tetsuya swiftly uprighted it with flick of his wand, the liquid slipping back into the cup with a sloshing sound.

‘Oh. Um, yes. Of course. Uh, send her in, please, Tetsuya.’

I sat down again, fumbling with my tie. Gabrielle had been on my mind since the night of the wedding. I'd felt bad about running off in the middle of our conversation, when she’d just bought me a drink, even if the circumstances had been exceptional. I’d looked for her to say goodbye afterwards, but she’d already left. I hadn’t expected to see her again for a good few years, and certainly not here in my office.    

‘Gabrielle Delacour for you, sir.’

Tetsuya ushered Gabrielle into the room, closing the door behind him. She was wearing white heels, skinny jeans, a tight cobalt blue blouse and a fitted navy jacket with a fleur-de-lis brooch on the lapel. In the picture on my desk, Ginny caught my eye and smiled. I turned the frame over and placed it face-down on the desk.

‘Gabrielle,’ I said, clearing my throat. ‘Nice to – I mean, good morning. Please, have a seat.’

She smiled and took the chair on the other side of my desk. She crossed her leg, her small hands placed on top of her knee. Her nails were painted the same blue as her shirt. I can't believe I remember that, but I do.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Harry. Especially at such short notice.’

‘You’re welcome. I mean, of course. No bother at all.’ Merlin’s beard. What was wrong with me? It was like I’d forgotten how to form sentences. ‘Did you, uh, enjoy the wedding on Saturday?’

‘Oh, yes. It was very nice.’ Her eyes flitted around the room, landing briefly on the framed photo of my parents on the wall, before coming back to me. ‘I’m glad those men didn’t ruin it for Teddy and Adam.’

'Teddy’s made of pretty stern stuff. He’s starting work here after his honeymoon, actually.’ That had caused a bit of a ruckus in the ministry. Lots of talk of nepotism, Teddy being my godson. It was unfair – Teddy had worked his way up the ladder like anyone else. ‘Transferring from Magical Transportation. Not sure if he mentioned.’

Gabrielle placed her hands on the table, linking her fingers together.

‘That’s what I’ve come about, actually. Not Teddy – the Mather League.’

‘Oh.’ I sat back in my chair. ‘What about them?’

She told me what she’d heard on the South Bank that morning. I jotted down some notes: descriptions of the witches and wizard she’d seen with Carrow and Selwyn and the word ‘Cardiff’, circled in red ink. But – and it pains me to admit this now – even their talking of killing and dying for the cause didn’t leave me too worried. As I said before, by this point we were all under the impression that the Mather League was just a few over-dramatic nutters with too much time on their hands. Even if they did intend to amp up the violence next time, there would be more than enough witches and wizards at any mixed wedding to defend themselves.

Plus… I was still embarrassed about how I’d charged into action on Saturday. I’d overreacted; Ginny had told me as much when we got home later that night. Maybe that had some effect on how I reacted. I’m not sure.

‘Thank you, Gabrielle,’ I said. ‘We’ll certainly look into it.’

‘I just thought you should know,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.’

She seemed to be justifying herself. For a moment, I did wonder why she had asked to see me personally, rather than simply reporting the incident to the staff downstairs. But – I felt a twinge of guilt at the thought – I was glad she had.

‘No, of course not. We’ll do whatever we can.’

‘Thank you, Harry.’ She stood up, smoothing down her jeans, and smiled. That smile… holy hippogriffs, it was something. ‘It was good to see you. I do hope it won’t be so long next time.’

*

 

I stayed true to my word: I passed my notes onto a junior Auror, sent her off to check on Carrow and Selwyn, and asked Tetsuya to look up any muggle-wizarding weddings taking place in Cardiff in the coming weeks. There was one that Friday: Mackenzie Jordan was set to marry a Welsh carpenter in a small village just outside the city. I told two members of staff to check it out, just in case. But after that, there were trials in the Wizengamot and meetings with the Chief Warlock and an issue with a defective pensieve up in Caithness, and I forgot. I forgot all about the Mather League for several days.

I can’t say the same about Gabrielle, though. A couple of times that week I found myself staring into space, remembering the tattoo on the back of her neck or the way she pushed her hair behind her ears. I let the lasange burn on Tuesday, going over our brief conversation in my head; on Thursday, Tetsuya had to call my name three or four times to snap me out of a reverie. I found myself wishing I'd asked her to go for lunch, or maybe for a drink after work. Finished what we started.

But that was crazy. I was married. Happily so. I had never cheated on Ginny… if the thought hadn't been so awful, it would have been laughable. Besides, I didn’t know anything about Gabrielle’s situation. I know she’d been married. Maybe she still was. Losing a baby must put an unbearable amount of pressure on a couple. Unthinkable. Maybe she and her husband were just taking a break. Maybe I was reading too much into all of this.

But even by Friday, five days since she walked unexpectedly into my office, I hadn’t managed to banish her from my mind.

‘What’s wrong with you?’

Ginny flicked a teatowel at me. I looked up from the stir fry I was making. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve asked you three times where the prawn crackers are. What’s going on? You’ve been away with the fairies all week.’

‘Sorry. Just… nothing, I’m fine.’

I added some soy sauce to the pan, making my glasses steam up. Ginny unfogged them and raised her eyebrows at me.

‘I know you, Harry. I can tell when something’s going on.’

‘I said I’m fine, Gin.’ I turned off the hob and took five bowls out of the cupboard. ‘Crackers are in the back of the cupboard, behind the crisps.’

She rolled her eyes and went to find them. The guilt gnawed at me as I split the stir fry into five helpings; as I laid the bowls on the table; as I told James and Lily to fetch the glasses and chopsticks. _You’re being stupid_ , I thought, taking my seat. _You haven’t done anything. There’s no crime in thinking about someone._

‘Albus!’ Ginny shouted suddenly, making me jump. ‘Dinner’s ready!’

‘He won’t come through,’ James said, flopping into the seat beside mine. ‘He’s on a firecall with Scorpius.’

‘Imagine making a firecall in Italy in July.' Lily shuddered. ‘Poor Scorpius is going to melt.’

‘Can’t possibly be more uncomfortable than having to struggle through a conversation with Albus,’ James said, dousing his plate with sweet chilli sauce.

‘James,’ Ginny snapped. ‘That’s enough.’

As I was about to take the first bite of my dinner, the door opened. Albus walked in, his face even paler than usual.

‘Uh, Dad? This guy just came in through the fireplace…’

A tall, thin man with pierced ears and black-rimmed glasses followed him into the room: Lucas Hobart, one of the Aurors I'd sent to watch over Mackenzie Jordan’s wedding in Cardiff. There were smudges of soot on his cheeks and clothes, and his normally neat hair was sticking up in all directions. I stood up so fast I knocked my seat over.

‘S-sorry to interrupt your dinner, sir,’ Lucas said, stammering a little. ‘There was – there’s been an incident at the Jordan wedding over in Wales.’

‘What incident?’ My heart was pounding. Ginny had one hand pressed to her mouth; the other was clutching my shirt. ‘What happened?’

‘The Mather League turned up, as p-predicted.’ Lucas ran a hand through his hair. ‘There were ten of them this time. They set fire to the venue again; some of them were using Unforgivable C-Curses. There have… there have been some casualties, sir.’

Everything in the world seemed to slow down. The sound drained from my ears, leaving nothing by the beating of my own pulse. With each throb of blood came a thought: Gabrielle was right. Gabrielle was right. I should have listened. I should have done more.

‘How many?’ I finally asked.

‘One witch. Jordan’s aunt.’

Ginny let out a yelp, muffled by her fingers. Lucas swallowed, and I realised something that made my insides flip: this ever-serious, ever-professional lad was trying not to cry.

‘And… thirty-two muggles, sir,’ he said, his voice raw. ‘They killed thirty-two muggles.’


End file.
